Canon and Fanon and Movies, oh my!
by ShelaghC
Summary: One-off. Written off the top of my head by request of a bored friend who simply wanted to read "anything."


Frodo strolled happily down a lane in the Shire with a bag of apples slung carelessly over his shoulder.  
  
_Odd_, he thought. _Tookland, Buckland and Crickhollow never seemed within a few hours' walking distance before I went on the quest._ Shrugging, he resigned the shorter journey to the same part of his mind that wondered where all the extra adventures he and his cousins seemed to have experienced in the last few years had come from.  
  
It didn't do to dwell on such things. It only gave one headaches which could unexpectedly bring on more serious illnesses.  
  
As he skipped through the brush, he was aware once again of a large number of doe-eyed hobbit lasses gazing longingly at him. He was sure there had never been this many lasses in Hobbiton in the past, but there they were. All of them sighing and pointing at him and his eyes as he pranced by.  
  
Again, he relegated this oddity to that mathom-filled corner of his head. A glance at the sun told him it was far past elevensies (a term which he was sure he'd never heard of until just recently, but now was apparently a regular meal all over the Shire) and he reached into the bag for one of the bright red apples. He had plenty to spare and one for the road wouldn't be missed.  
  
It wasn't long before he came to Pippin and Merry's joint Hobbit hole in Crickhollow. The two were batching it up in grand style, smoking Longbottom Leaf and eating salted pork and mushrooms whilst lounging in comfortable positions under a tree. (For a moment, Frodo thought they might have been whispering to the tree, but that was just silly - wasn't it?)  
  
"Cousin Frodo!" they both cried out as they spied him coming through the gate.  
  
"Hello Cousins!" He marveled at how Pippin could have grown so much taller, yet still seemed to be the smallest of them all. "Have you been waiting long?"  
  
"No indeed," Merry assured him. "Everything is ready and waiting for your arrival!"  
  
Pippin snaked one arm around Frodo's free arm while deftly relieving him of the apples with the other. "Shall we retire for the festivities?" he asked with a twinkle in his green eyes, his brogue all the more evident than usual.  
  
_Hmmm...._ Frodo thought. _When did Pippin begin talking with such an odd accent? And, now that I think of it, why did Gimli have such a similar one?_  
  
But as his two Hobbity cousins steered him inside the hole, the thoughts drifted off to join the others from before. Had Frodo been gifted with the ears and eyes of a perfectly coiffed blonde elf, he might have noticed a gaggle of doe-eyed hobbitesses quietly snooping behind them and peeking through the round windows, all with sheeves of parchment, quills, and bottles of ink. They scribbled furiously, feather-pens scratching down every detail.  
  
"Well?" Merry said to Frodo, still leading him through the smial. "What shall it be?" His hand dipped into the apples and pulled out a particularly juicy piece of fruit.  
  
"Oi!" Pippin protested on Frodo's other side. "I thought it was my turn to choose!" He'd managed to get his own sweet treasure from the bag as well and was speaking around a mouthful.  
  
"You chose last time," Merry insisted. "It's Frodo's tonight."  
  
Frodo blinked eyes that felt much larger than they had in years past. What was this about?  
  
Pippin and Merry both turned expectant liquid eyes to their older cousin outside a bedroom with an enormous and extremely soft-looking bed inside.  
  
"All right, cousin Frodo," Pippin acquiesed. "What do you choose?"  
  
"Choose?" he said meekly, wondering if he should have relegated less of the odd new things to his mental storage house.  
  
"Why yes," Merry said impatiently. "What shall it be?"  
  
"Hot monkey sex --" Pippin suggested.   
  
"--or just making sweet hobbit love," Merry finished.  
  
The apple core in Frodo's hand fell to the floor as his cousins' grins turned salacious. They directed him the rest of the way into the bedroom and slammed the round door shut behind them.  
  
From outside the window could be heard nothing but frantic scrapings of quills on parchment for many hours afterward.  
  
The End


End file.
